


Not All Men

by tabacoychanel



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019)
Genre: Gen, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabacoychanel/pseuds/tabacoychanel
Summary: Sabina and Jane talk Elena through her first solo mission.
Relationships: Elena Houghlin & Jane Kano & Sabina Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Not All Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackEyedGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/gifts).



The man on the bar stool said, “You have beautiful eyes.” _His_ eyes were clamped to her boobs. 

“Thank you,” said Elena. She even managed a smile. “Would you like another beer?”

“I can’t stop looking at them.”

“I’ll check back in a bit,” she assured him chirpily before veering away, balancing a tray of dirty glasses against one shoulder.

In her ear she heard Jane say warningly, “Don’t turn your back on him.”

Elena was already halfway to the kitchen and did not pause, but something cold crawled up her spine. “Why, is he a threat?” She had thought she was getting better at identifying threats. Her instructors had impressed upon her that just because people did not actively mean you harm did not make them not-a-threat. People were unpredictable. They were like landmines, ready to detonate all over your carefully laid plans.

“Girl,” said Sabina, “if he sees your bougie ass sashaying away from him he’ll sit there all night hitting on you. I have a sushi-making class to get to.” This was followed by a crinkling sound of paper being unwrapped. 

“Don’t get a swelled head just because Sabina thinks you have a nice arse,” added Jane.

Elena almost dropped her tray. It was impossible to tell when Sabina was kidding. With Jane it was just impossible to tell anything, period. 

Sabina snorted, “Elena, if you did sixty percent more lunges per workout you’d have a nice ass.”

Jane said, “Do you have visual on the target or not?”

“I….yes,” said Elena. There was absolutely no reason for her pulse to be racing. It was an easy job, a rookie job. That was why they had given it to her. She was here to conduct preliminary surveillance, nothing more. “Sabina, are you _eating a sandwich_?”

“Kimchee and cheddar cheese,” confirmed Jane, and Elena swore she could _feel_ Jane’s shudder pass through their linked subdermal implants and into her own nervous system.

“‘m on a cleanse,” maintained Sabina around mouthfuls of sandwich. 

“Could you learn to chew with your mouth shut?” hissed Jane.

“Dunno. Could you learn to like, not repress your feelings?” Sabina volleyed back.

A strange, vertiginous feeling overtook Elena: It was like giving a presentation at a conference _while_ watching her parents have a fight at the dinner table—two contexts that oughtn’t to mix. She supposed it didn’t feel real yet, that she was an Angel now. She was Sabina and Jane’s equal. Anything they could do, she could do…well, probably much less competently, but she’d get it done in the end. 

Elena offloaded the dirty glasses in the kitchen and wove her way toward the target of their surveillance, an elderly gentleman sitting alone and reading a book, his cane hooked over the chair opposite. 

Elena had not made it five paces into the dining room before she was waylaid by the man from earlier, the man who had complimented her eyes. He was motioning for her attention so violently that she had to divert course toward him or else there would have been a scene.

This time he said, “I have a question”—his gaze darted to her name tag—“Raquel.”

She nodded politely.

“I have to ask, are you Turkish?”

“The fuck he want to know that for?!” came Sabina’s howl of disbelief. 

“You look like you could be Turkish. You really have the most extraordinary eyes. I used to travel all over for business,” the man explained. “Been to Turkey twice. Beautiful country. Just beautiful. And the people are so friendly! Have you been to Istanbul? The food there is incredible. God, I wish I could go back. You gotta go to Istanbul, I’m telling you, it’s something else. Always meant to go back there on vacation, you know?”

Elena had by now forgot all her training and every single detail of her cover identity had fled her mind. 

“So, do you speak Turkish? Beautiful language.”

Elena’s mouth flew open and then it snapped closed, but nothing came out. 

“Hey. Don’t forget to smile, sunshine.”

She managed to summon her vocal chords for long enough to say “I’m Pakistani” before marching away. It was sheer chance that her body was already aimed in the direction of the galley; otherwise she was sure she would have marched straight through a window and into the street. 

“Guys,” she panted, when she had obtained the relative safety of the galley, her words swallowed up by the crash of plates and cutlery, “what should I do if that man tries to strike up another conversation?”

“Tranq him.” That was Jane. She didn’t say _I told you so_ but she didn’t need to.

“Give him the worst diarrhea of his life,” was Sabina’s suggestion. Elena carried powders on her person which would have accomplished exactly that. They were standard-issue for field agents. They were also slow-acting, and the man was still nursing his first beer—god only knew when she’d have the opportunity to give him a second one.

“But I mean—how do I get him to stop talking? It’s like he’s in love with the sound of his own voice!”

For half a second Elena thought Sabina was unwrapping another sandwich, but then the low, sweet peal of Jane chimed in and she realized it was laughter. The other two were laughing at her.

“Elena,” gasped Sabina between guffaws, “I don’t mean this in a judgy way but have you ever talked to a man before?”

“Before I met you guys all I did was talk to men. All day,” she added defensively. It happened not infrequently that there were more men named Dave working in a given lab than there were women by any name. 

“Then you know they _all_ love the sound of their own voice,” said Jane, in the tones of someone explaining hand-washing to an eight-year-old who should really not require a refresher course.

“Oh,” said Elena. “Ohhhhhh. Okay. I guess I thought they were that way because they were scientists. A lot of scientists can be assholes—”

“Nah, it’s because they’re men,” said Sabina.

“Not all men. Just most of them,” said Jane, and Elena thought of Edgar, lying at the bottom of a lake. Poor Jane. 

“What’s my exit strategy here?” asked Elena, and waited with her heart in her throat for the other two to tell her _you’re a full-fledged Angel now, you figure it out_. 

No brush-off of the sort was forthcoming.

Instead: “It’s best to be direct,” said Jane. 

Elena pictured Jane casually putting the offending man in a headlock. “Okay. Sabina? Thoughts?”

“He wants to talk? Let him talk. You don’t even have to pay attention—make little humming noises in the back of your throat and you’re gucci. String him along. Life’s more fun when you play with your food a little.”

Well, Sabina’s and Jane’s ideas of “fun” were obviously never going to align. “But this guy. The one who thinks I’m Turkish. If I don’t get rid of him I’ll never be able to approach the target without interference.”

Sabina said gently, “We already told you what _we_ would do, tiger. Now it’s up to you to decide what _you_ want to do.”

The next time Elena entered the dining room, bearing several cups of coffee, she managed to slosh a good quantity of liquid on the target’s jacket. In the flurry of bending over and apologizing and mopping up the mess, she was able to communicate everything she needed to communicate. She hardly needed to say more than ten words; her body language said it for her. The target’s grandfatherly concern was keen and immediate. He thumped over to the man-who-had-been-to-Turkey-twice and made a harrumphing noise. 

The man-who-had-been-to-Turkey-twice looked up from his beer. “You talking’ to me?”

“In my day,” said the target, “there were consequences for mistreating a lady.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“Have you been deliberately making that young lady uncomfortable?”

“I dunno who the hell you think you are, but you can butt right out of my business.”

“What have you been saying to her?”

“Jesus, it’s a free country. We were just making conversation. Didn’t seem to bother her none.”

“Her _job_ is to appear unbothered. She’s your _waitress_ , you dunce.”

And he gave a thud with his cane for emphasis.

This lecture seemed to have little enough effect on the man occupying the barstool. Yet within minutes he had knocked back the remainder of his beer, paid his tab and left. Elena released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“That’s the cover blown,” said Jane. She sounded less morose than she should have, all things considered.

Elena said giddily, “Doesn’t matter. I already palmed the target’s phone and cloned it. We’re in!”

Sabina let out an appreciative whoop. “Congratulations on finding the only valid man alive. Seriously. Good job, Elena.”

A warmth spread through Elena’s chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you guys. I mean it.”


End file.
